


Hulinhjálmur

by RunRabbitRun



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Bloodplay, Dark Magic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Needles, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-21
Updated: 2011-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-23 22:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunRabbitRun/pseuds/RunRabbitRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki wants cast a protective spell on Sif. Sif is not so sure. Then she is VERY sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hulinhjálmur

**Author's Note:**

> For this prompt on the Kink Meme:
> 
>  _"Hulinhjálmur (‘helm of disguise’) has to be drawn on a piece of lignite (brown coal) and then pressed against one’s forehead. The most complicated part is the preparation of the ink. One has to collect three drops of blood from the index finger of one’s left hand, three from the ring-finger of one’s right hand, two from the right nipple and one from the left nipple. Then the blood must be mixed with six drops of blood from the heart of a living raven ~~and melted with raven’s brains and pieces of human stomach~~. This kind of magic was used as the best protection against enemies."_
> 
>  _(Source - http://www.vikingrune.com/2009/01/bjork-tattoo-norse-magic-symbols/)_
> 
>  _I want to read Loki performing this spell on Sif. As erotically ritualistic as possible, please._
> 
>  _I crossed out the bits about brains and stomachs because, ngl, I don't find those hot. You don't even have to use this exact spell, if you don't want to, but something similar, plzthnx._

"I don't need your protection, I can look after myself."

"Please," he murmured, brushing his lips against her spine, "It's more for me than for you. Allow me to protect you in this one small way."

"Make me a talisman or something. Fandral is always getting little charms from his many admirers," Sif rolled over to face Loki, pulling him against her and throwing one leg over his hip.

"Fandral's little girls," Loki sniffed, "Have no experience in magic. I do, and I know well enough that pretty little charms are worthless against danger. Real protection requires a sacrifice, something real. You can't get something for nothing, after all."

"Are you going to kill a lamb for me? How very Midgardian of you." Sif purred, grinding herself against his quickly renewing interest.

Loki grinned savagely. "Would you like that?"

"Not now, I'm not in the mood for lamb." Sif laughed breathlessly, gasping as Loki rolled on top of her and pushed his way inside. Sif rolled her hips, pulling him deeper, and locked her ankles around his back with a sharp-toothed smile of her own.

Loki tangled her fingers in her hair and kissed her, long and deep, thrusting agonizingly slowly with his lean hips. He pulled away and whispered against her ear. "Please, Sif. Let me do this for you."

He punctuated his request with a forceful thrust and Sif moaned.

"Yes, yes, alright. I'll think about it."

\-----

When he described the ceremony to her, she almost refused outright.

("Not squeamish are you?" "No! But that thing with the raven, ugh, that's disgusting.")

In the end, it took an appeal to her pride to convince her. Loki'd made much of her warrior's heart and how could she, Sif the Shield Maiden of Asgard, be so offended by a few pinpricks and a few drops of blood when she'd merrily gone into battle at her own peril and come out the other end covered in a lot more offensive substances that a little of her own blood.

Which is how she found herself naked in Loki's bed (granted, not an unusual occurrence) with her lover kneeling over her hips, holding a long, wicked looking needle between his thumb and forefinger.

"Relax, it will make it easier," he soothed, taking her left hand in his own and caressing her knuckles with his thumb. "Who knows, you might even like it." He shifted, grinding his hips, against hers.

"Troll," growled Sif, smacking his thigh with her free hand. The set-up was very sensual, though, not that she'd ever admit it. Sif had insisted that the spell be performed in the dead of night, so that there was less of a chance of their being walked in on by Thor (again). So, the room was dimly lit by a few candles, casting a golden glow over their pale skins, and then there was the fact that she was naked and Loki wore only the loose linen trousers he wore to bed.

Loki, that sly bastard, seemed to have read her thoughts and pressed a kiss to her captive hand. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Oh, just get on with it."

Sif was a warrior, and unafraid of pain. She'd suffered injuries far worse that a pinprick to the finger, but when Loki drove the needle into the forefinger of her left hand, she could not suppress the gasp of pain. Perhaps it was the inherent sexuality of the situation, but her skin seemed alive with feeling, every nerve alert to the tiniest stimulus. With a clinical air, Loki squeezed her pricked finger, drawing out three drops of blood and collecting them in a tiny green glass bowl. He then drew the bleeding digit into his mouth, licking at the miniscule flow of red and damn if that didn't make Sif feel warm all over. He sucked on her hurt finger for a moment more and when he removed it from his mouth, the hole left by the needle had completely vanished. He repeated the process with the ring finger of her right hand: stabbing the soft pad and squeezing out three drops of blood, then placing her finger into his mouth and healing the wound with some kind of magic worked by his clever tongue and sucking lips.

"Sit up," he said, moving off of her and to the side. "Lean forward."

Sif breathed deeply as she sat up and kneeled at Loki's direction. This part of the ceremony caused dread to pool in her stomach and she failed to fight back a frisson of fear.

Loki brushed her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, positioning the needle right over her right nipple. Sif met his eyes.

"No."

Loki nodded and with a lightening-quick movement, pricked her nipple, driving the needle in fairly deep before withdrawing it in an eyeblink.

The pain was intense and somehow more arresting than any wound she'd received in the battlefield. She almost shrieked with Loki stabbed her, and whimpered (whimpered! like a child!) when he pinched her flesh, milking out two drops of blood into the little green bowl as quickly as he could. As soon as he'd finished, he swooped down and took her nipple into his mouth, soothing away the pain with soft, quick passes of his tongue. The pain disappeared soon enough and soon all Sif could feel was the hot wetness of Loki's mouth on her. His hand snaked down between her legs and stroked her there, his fingers growing slick with her.

"Don't dawdle," Sif ordered "Do the other one, quickly."

Loki nodded and reluctantly withdrew. He wiped his moist fingers on his trousers and cupped her left breast in his hand, flicking the nipple with the index finger. When he stabbed her with the needle, the pain seemed less intense, perhaps because she was more prepared for it. He only drew out one drop of blood into the green bowl this time, and did not linger overlong when he healed her with his mouth.

Her contributions finished, Sif collapsed back on the bed, unashamedly seeking out her clit as Loki left the bed and padded over to a table on the far side of the room, where a covered bird's cage waited for him. He pulled off the cover, revealing a large raven. He did the lock on the cage and closed a long-fingered hand around the sleek black body. The bird shrieked and slashed at him with it's talons, but Loki held firm and pressed a fingertip the the thrashing head. He muttered something and the bird went limp, and Sif could see its beady eyes shut. Its breast heaved still.

Not dead, then. Only sleeping. The small act of charity surprised her; she did not think of Loki as the gentle kind.

Loki laid out the unconscious bird on the table and, quick as a viper, stabbed his long needle into it's heart. The bird thrashed momentarily, but grew still as Loki picked the thing up and squeezed it's body, forcing six drops of it's living blood into the bowl.

"Lay back now, I have to do this quickly."

"No kisses for the bird, then?" Sif asked, laying herself out flat on the bed.

Loki rolled his eyes and climbed over her so that he was keeling, straddling her hips much like he had been before. He'd traded his long needle for a tiny calligraphy brush, and swirled the blood around his the bowl with a few gentle movements of her wrists.

"My kisses only for you, my Lady," he answered with a pointed smile. "Now hold still."

The little brush tickled as he painted the runic symbol of the Hulinhjálmur on Sif's forehead. A few times she wanted to squirm or furrow her brow against the sensation but she lay still as Loki had asked, and waited for him to finish.

The candles had burned low by the time the last brushstroke was added to the symbol. Loki flicked the brush a few more time and then flicked his wrist, sending bowl and brush spinning across the marble floor. He took Sif's face in his blood-speckled hands and kissed her hard. Sif arched up and wrapped her self around her, arms and legs, and kissed back.

She forced his trousers off and rolled on top, taking ahold of his cock (how long had he been hard?) and lowering herself onto it.

Loki held on to her hips, pulling her down as he rocked up, each thrust met when Sif rolled her hips down, taking him in deeper. Holy stars but he was beautiful like this, his hair undone and curling in the heat, his pale cheeks growing pink withe exertion. The Hulinhjálmur felt hot on her skin, like sunlight taken shape and she rolled down hard. Loki's thumbnail caught on her clit and she came, nails scouring crimson lines across his shoulder. Her choked-off moan was met by his near silent grunt as he bucked upward one last time.

Sif let herself fall to the side, grimacing a little when Loki's cock slid free of her.

Loki wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her against his front, stroking her thighs and kissing the nape of her neck.

"You know," he said when they'd both caught their breath "The Hulinhjálmur is only one of many protective spells we could try."

He laughed and dodged when Sif tried to kick his shin.


End file.
